A Noble Quest
by MarianaReads
Summary: Brother Gromard was ecstatic to receive his first quest from the Brotherhood - to spread the truth of the Light to the amoral of Azeroth. However, his first encounter proved that he is in over his head. Takes place during WotLK. NON-CANON MAIN CHARACTERS. WoW religious/racial representations are based off of what I have learned from research! M for future content.


Gromard regarded the building before him. He wouldn't have noticed it unless he was looking for it specifically - which, of course, he was. Fate had seen to it that Brother Kilmar would bequeath Gromard with this cursed quest or - perhaps, his luck should be attributed to the Light. After all, it was his religion that he was attempting to spread... He sighed heavily and ran rough hands over his weary face, remembering the missive that he had received from Brother Kilmar just a few short days ago.

_Brother Gromard -_

_I hope that this letter finds you well. _

_We have discussed the matter of your request and it is my pleasure to report that we have indeed found a task for you. The Brotherhood has arranged your fare to travel to several different lands, and reveal the truth of the Light to those who need it the most. This is a noble cause, Brother Gromard, and I hope that you realize the gravity of what we have tasked you with._

_Your first assignment will be to a woman - a Blood Elf - who operates a small tavern in Dalaran. Her name is Loremandi. I suspect you will face some difficulties, and I pray that you do not waver from your cause. Lesser men would easily fall prey to this woman and her company, but we are confident in the steadfastness of your faith. _

_Flight master Bralla Cloudwing awaits your arrival in Stormwind City. All details have been arranged, and all expenses covered. What remains is for you to arrive and simply tell her your name. _

_I look forward to your letter ensuring that you have arrived safely in Dalaran._

_These are dark times, Brother Gromard. Take care in your travels and remember - you must not stray from the Light. _

_I will be praying for you,_

_Brother Kilmar_

Brother Gromard had a very dull (thank the Light) journey, and had indeed arrived in Dalaran safely. This was his first time in the floating city and the beauty of the magus architecture stunned him. Gromard may be a simpleton farmer from Elwynn Forest, but splendor and magic were not easily lost on him. He counted himself quite fortunate to have been placed in such a magnificent post... until he learned of the nature of his quest.

Gromard's first several inquiries after the Blood Elf were answered with disinterested shrugs and the occasional "ne'er heard o' her," from an intoxicated dwarf. Most of the Alliance members he encountered sneered at the audacity of a human searching for a Blood Elf, and he was lucky that the Horde did not decapitate him where he stood. It was only in the seediest of taverns that his question was answered with any sort of intelligent reply.

"Aye, lad - I know this Loremandi. But what're you lookin' to her for? I'll wager that yer not her... typical _customer_," the shadowed man replied, half chuckling. "And I'll tell yeh where you can find her but don't come runnin' ter me with yer balls in hand after she's rightly handed them to ye."

Gromard had the decency to at least blanch at the stranger's warning. "But I was under the impression that Blood Elves were the height of culture and - wait, a moment. What do you mean by customers?"

The shadowed man merely snickered at Gromard and was silent for a few moments, only drawing on his long pipe every so often. Gromard sensed that he was being studied and squared his shoulders, his white robes stretched tightly across his chest. He wore the garb of the Light proudly and hoped that it would buffer him in the eyes of this man.

"Cultured, eh? You're green as they come, lad. But far be it from me to meddle in affairs that aren't mine to own. I'll take ye to Loremandi, sure. And my payment is simple - you meet me back here, in this very bar, after having yer conversation with Loremandi. I reckon I haven't had a proper laugh since the Scourge and this'll fill me up. Come now, let's get on with it." The shadowed man suddenly stood, downing the last of his ale, and kicking his chair back from him. He crossed to the entrance of the bar in a few, long strides and Gromard nearly ran to follow him.

And so, here he was. His guide did as promised and led him straight to Loremandi's tavern, merely jutting his chin in the direction of the small establishment. Then, he simply clapped Gromard on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowded streets. It was only after that the stranger had left that Gromard realized he hadn't so much as a name to distinguish the man by, or a face. No, all Gromard had to rely on was a sinking feeling in his gut and the echo of the man's laughter in his ears. Perhaps he had been too blase about this quest. What did Brother Kilmar say? That lesser men would fall prey to Loremandi...

Once more, Gromard sighed. He squinted at the small hanging sign above the tavern's door and frowned when he realized that the name was stated proudly in the elegant Elven script - a language that he had no proficiency in. And perhaps door was too strong of word for the shimmery, sheer veil that separated the streets of Dalaran from what was within. Every so often, a breeze would stir the veil and Gromard was rewarded with a faint whiff of perfume and the twinkle of a delicate, feminine laugh - both of which he found oddly alluring.

_You are a Brother of the Light - pull yourself together!_ He silently chided himself. Brother Kilmar was correct - Gromard was not a lesser man.


End file.
